


Timeless

by TrueIllusion



Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [7]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Aging, Canon Compliant, Dramatic David Rose, Ficlet, Fluff, Future Fic, Glasses, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Troll, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Patrick’s stomach growled as he unloaded his bags before making his way to the back door, where the kitchen’s warm glow shone through the window. When he opened the door, he expected to see David at the stove, stirring something or removing a cheesy casserole from the oven. But instead, David was sitting at the kitchen table with a tray of what appeared to be a failed attempt at chocolate chip cookies.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852009
Comments: 19
Kudos: 150





	Timeless

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to blackandwhiteandrose for the brainstorming, and to PrettyTheWorld for the beta!

The last ten miles of the drive between Toronto and Schitt’s Creek were always the longest for Patrick. But making the right connections and staying up-to-date with the latest in small business tax laws meant making the occasional trip for a conference or seminar, leaving David to run the store alone. And even though he hated spending time apart, Patrick loved all of the ways David would show him he’d been missed, from special home-cooked meals to carefully planned romantic evenings.

His nerves already buzzing with anticipation, Patrick exited the highway and turned onto the road that led to Schitt’s Creek. The days were getting shorter, so the sun was setting as he made the final turn toward their cottage in the country. When he pulled into the driveway, Patrick saw a light on in the kitchen, making him wonder what recipe David had decided to experiment with tonight. Since moving into the house, David had started cooking more, and although he still wasn’t a gourmet chef, he was getting better, despite always choosing complicated recipes.

Patrick’s stomach growled as he unloaded his bags before making his way to the back door, where the kitchen’s warm glow shone through the window. When he opened the door, he expected to see David at the stove, stirring something or removing a cheesy casserole from the oven. But instead, David was sitting at the kitchen table with a tray of what appeared to be a failed attempt at chocolate chip cookies.

David’s shoulders were tense, jaw clenched as he looked up at Patrick with an odd mix of surprise and frustration. There was a smear of cookie dough on his cheek, and he looked a bit like he always did after a panic attack, making Patrick wish he’d gotten home a few minutes earlier.

“Hi,” Patrick soothed, letting go of his bags and bringing his hands to David’s shoulders, massaging gently. “Do I want to know how this happened?”

“ _This_ ,” David paused, giving the tray a disgusted flick, “was supposed to be your ‘welcome home’ surprise. Only instead of cookies, I ended up with crispy, burnt _pancakes_.”

Patrick recognized the recipe card on the table as his mother’s, with her neat handwriting detailing his favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe. David held the card at arm’s length, squinting as he read the ingredients out loud. Patrick knew the recipe by heart, so he knew immediately what was wrong as soon as David said “one-half cup of vegetable oil.”

“Um, are you sure that’s what it says, babe?” Patrick questioned, recalling all the times he’d helped make those cookies, carefully measuring out 1/3 cup of oil -- not 1/2.

“Um, _yes_.” David held the recipe card out for Patrick, pointing at the measurement, which clearly read 1/3. “See? Right there. One-half cup.”

“That’s a three, David.”

Turning the card back toward himself, David squinted again, studying it. “Mmm… are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve made these cookies with mom a thousand times. It’s definitely a three.”

“Looks like a two.”

Patrick picked up the card and walked to the counter, holding the recipe at David’s eye level, a teasing smirk beginning to form on his face as he realized what was going on. “Can you see it now?”

“No, it’s too far away,” David said petulantly, crossing his arms.

Patrick brought the card closer, until David wasn’t squinting at it anymore. “How about now?”

“Must be her handwriting,” David insisted. “Her threes look like twos.”

“She’s a first-grade teacher. That’s a perfect three.”

David said nothing as he glared at Patrick, arms still firmly crossed over his chest.

“Tell you what, how about we both make an appointment with the eye doctor? I haven’t been in years, and I’m sure you haven’t either.”

“My eyes are _fine_ ,” David whined. “I had laser surgery when I was 19, and I’ve had perfect vision ever since.”

“Well, you are almost 40.” Patrick’s smirk grew wider as David’s frown deepened. “It’s probably time for readers, at least.”

“I am _not_ almost 40, thankyouverymuch. I am thirty- _seven_.”

“Which is three years from 40.”

David let out an exasperated sigh as he stood and pushed the chair in. “Fine,” he said, defiance still clear in his voice. “But only if you go with me.”

“I will,” Patrick said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around David’s torso, kissing him softly. “It’ll be fine.”

***

“This is _not_ fine!” David snapped, hands gesturing wildly toward his face. “This is _incorrect_! I haven’t looked like this since I was an awkward teenager trying not to look like _too_ big of a loser at Lauren Conrad’s house parties.”

Patrick held David’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, _I_ think you look sexy,” he said, trying to sound as sultry as possible as he let one of his hands wander down David’s chest before anchoring it at his waist, pulling their bodies together.

“Glad one of us does.” David rolled his eyes, the familiar gesture accentuated by the barely-there set of clear plastic frames they’d picked out the week before at their joint eye appointments. “I still say they must have made a mistake during your exam. No way do you still have 20/20 vision. After all, you’re almost _40_.”

“Thirty- _three_ , David. Much closer to 30 than 40. Unlike 37.”

“Whatever.” David rolled his eyes again, a smirk beginning to tug at the edge of his lips. “So does that mean you’re going to leave me soon? Find someone younger and more attractive who doesn’t need _glasses_?” He spat out the final word like it tasted bad, though the hint of a smile was still tucked firmly into his cheek.

“Never.” Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around David, tugging him in close as he pressed his lips to David’s, teasing him with a hint of tongue before pulling away. “Besides, age is just a number. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re timeless.”


End file.
